


Sold My Soul

by fewlmewn (Shouriko)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, Demonic Possession, Mild Gore, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shouriko/pseuds/fewlmewn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hasn't quite been himself lately and Derek struggles to understand what's happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sold My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, my first attempt EVER at a Demon!Stiles and I hope it's gonna turn out alright. Comments are welcome.  
> This is still unfinished so prepare for the worst even if I'm not even sure of being able to actually write this sorts of things. Ah!  
> Enjoy.

“That’s why you can’t have nice things, Derek. You always end up… - He paused, fiddling with the dead leaf between his fingers, crunching it violently in his fist at last- … Breaking them. Like that time you burned your family alive.”

 

He raised his face from the darkness of the woods, revealing his features.

He knew the moment his eyes bled black, filling with ink, that it wasn’t him anymore. God knows how long it had been this way. He refused to acknowledge the change in his behavior, kept saying it must have been the stress for all that had went on lately. He’s just a little out of himself, no need to worry, he said, mostly to himself.

 

\---

 

The boy started being more malicious. Almost cruel sometimes. Pushing his fingers a little too far into wounds that hadn’t healed yet, looking at the blood on his hands, ecstatic.

The first time he did it, all of them observed him, shocked. To their confused looks, he simply replied “With all that has been going on lately, it seems like I have to get acquainted with this sort of things. Sorry it looked weird.” And wiped his hand on his already blood stained jeans.

 

After that, things got worse. Well, strange in the very least. He started saying things and _doing_ things completely out of character. Like talking Derek to death to convince him to go hunt something and show him how it was. On one hand, he said it was to research werewolves - and that he believed -, on the other hand, he always refused to participate in any of these things before, cringing at any reference he made to hunting and chasing animals. He wondered why, all of the sudden, he was so interested in seeing Derek catch a prey in the woods but called it off as “he wants to feel part of the pack”.

So he chased a hare with no effort whatsoever and crushed his neck under his fangs.

“Happy now?” he said, holding the animal by its ears.

“ _Very_.” A glint sparkling behind his eyes as he licked his lips casually.

 

Those were small things that never quite made sense at all. Until he finally put all the pieces together.

 

One very troubled night of sleep, though, he woke up suddenly, covered in sweat and feeling weird. He had the horrible feeling that there was something going on but he couldn’t place his worries.

He skimmed through all the books he kept after the fire and researched Peter’s laptop, reading as much as he could, hoping something would have caught his eye. But it didn’t happen.

All he knew was that there was something wrong with Stiles. He’s not himself anymore.

He went back to sleep at dawn, a weight in his chest and the frustration bugging the back of his mind.

 

\---

 

“I didn’t kill them.” He gritted through his teeth, keeping a safe distance from… whoever it was inside that body.

“Ah, Derek. I love this new found confidence of yours. Was this kid that helped you? But I remember everything, you know. Was it, what? 6 months ago? Yes. And you were consumed by the guilt piercing through you. It hurt so bad, didn’t it? And look at you now. You look like you actually believe you’re a good “Alpha”. This kid surely gave you a confidence boost. But I just want to know one thing… Did you cry? I mean, properly? Did you have a good, honest to God cry for all the people you killed?”

“I’m telling you it wasn’t m-“

“Shut the fuck up already. You think I don’t know anything, right? Well, a friendly reminder for you: I’m not this kid. I’m a completely different thing. And I know, unlike everybody else, what happened 7 years ago. I know, I do. Because I was there.”

Words failed him. It didn’t make sense. What was going on?

 

“You are so dumb. But don’t worry, I’ll come back. I’ll haunt you, actually. Have fun, Derek.” And he left, between the trees, sucked in by the darkness he came from.

-

 

He spent the following days shut inside, researching, reading as fast as he could without letting anything by. After 20 hours he hardly kept up but couldn’t stop. He needed to know.

He refused help from anyone, didn’t answer anybody’s calls. After all of that, he still didn’t know what it was he had to deal with. And the less people involved, the better.

 

Isaac came around that afternoon, just as he was about to fall asleep on the books opened on the burned table in the kitchen.

“Woah, Derek. You look like shit. What happened? Peter didn’t tell me anything, he only mumbled that he wants to get back here and he wanted to know – his words – when you’ll stop being a princess and let him in again. I know you are doing something and it’s getting pretty much clear that you don’t want us to know what it is… all I’m saying is that if you need help, just ask.”

“It’s- it’s fine. Really. Right now I just need some sleep. And… if you could stay away just a little bit longer-“

“Don’t worry, I’ll make something up to keep Peter out of this. Take care, you look exhausted.”

The boy walked away back into the forest, his steps like bombs detonating inside his aching head.

He needed rest.

 

 

Whatever it was that took control of Stiles’ body, he didn’t show up until the next week. Night was approaching and he rose from the darkness right in front of his porch.

 

“100 bucks say you wanna know what I am. Well, not telling you. _Yet_. But I’ll tell you _one_ thing. Why do I know what I know? I can’t tell you _who I am_ , but I can tell you _who I’ve been_.”

He walked forward and sat on the steps, facing the woods. Unnaturally quiet, as if his body weighted nothing. The wooden planks he touched didn’t even creak under him, he produced no sound at all.

Hadn’t it been for the low and steady thrum of blood rushing in his veins and the calm beating of his heart, he would have thought he wasn’t-

“Well, Derek. Where have we left last time? Oh, right! Remember the day you burned your family alive? I was there. Mmm, wait.  I already said that. Then what about… “

He paused, rolled his head back, looking now at him, upside down, displaying a grin on his face, but his eyes were serious and pitch black.

“  … I lit them up one by one and watched their flesh _melt_ and their mouths distort as they screamed, in agony?”

 

He couldn’t hold back. He grabbed forcefully the hoodie he was wearing and shoved the body against the wooden door, who creaked against the weight.

“Now now, Derek. Be reasonable. I’m the one doing the talking, but I’m not the one being shoved by an angry werewolf. Watch your claws if you care about the kid, alright?”

He let him go. As much as he hated to admit it, he was right. He had to find a solution to this.

But how was that even possible. Could he be a shapeshifter? Maybe the real Stiles is kept somewhere. Please, let him be kept somewhere and not dead.

 

“That’s better. - he said after being released -That’s some death grip you got in there. And if you’re thinking about stopping me, you’ll have to work very hard. Here’s a tip: don’t even think about using Mountain Ash. That shit won’t work so I’ll spare you the time of trying. Go to that little veterinarian witch if you please, but I know you haven’t told no one and want to keep it at that. It’s you, just you. Fight, little soldier. Go on then.” And went back sitting on the steps, as if nothing happened.

 

“Another thing. This body… this flesh and bones and everything else, well. It’s all original. I know what must have been going on inside that little head of yours. This kid is the real thing. You hurt… me, you hurt _him_. And if you think I’m bluffing, that’s your problem. Do you dare to take the risk?”

 

“We were saying? Right, your family was having a not-so-safe indoors barbecue and my hand might or might not have slipped, pouring some gasoline around and a lighter on top of that. Of course I laced the building in wolfsbane as well, just to make sure the fumes were as lethal as the flames in case someone made it out of the fire. Peter did. But I guess my little plan worked _just as right_ , since it took him 6 years to recover. And during that time I organized everything else. I’m one with fingers in a lot of pies. I have a busy agenda.”

 

He rose to his feet and walked towards him. He came closer, so close he felt his warm breath prickling the hairs on his neck when he eventually laid his head on top of his right shoulder. He turned his face around and whispered to his ear.

“I bet you remember this. The voice is different, and... I don’t know how it must feel like to you with this kid breathing in your ear but I’ll do further experiments, don’t worry. So? Ring any bells? No?”

He darted out his tongue and licked a long stripe from the base of his neck to the back of his ear, lazily. His hands were sliding up all the way to his shoulder blades, gripping his shirt, as if to cling to it. Or to rip it off.

“Remember Kate? That little girl? It’s a shame she got _mauled_ by your uncle, I liked her. And so did you, apparently.”

 

He couldn’t help but push him away against the banister. He arched back on it and almost fell on the other side, wasn’t it that he was holding himself up with supernaturally strong hands.

“Ah-ah, gotcha. You better be careful if you don’t want to break _him_ as well…” He grinned, eyes like black water gurgling inside him, boiling.

 

He hardly restrained himself, the thought of hurting him barely enough to hold him back.

“Anything else?” He asked hastily, eager to have him out of the place to go and skim through the books once more to finally know something, anything.

“Nah, it’s all for now. Think I’ll go. Got shoved too many times for today, and it’s not the kind of thrusting I personally prefer. I’ll get back when you’ll be more… in the mood. Thanks for the chat, Derek. Have fun reading your eyes out of your skull tonight.”

He strode away, almost skipping, like a child. He couldn’t see his face, but there was no doubt he was still grinning like mad.

 

-

 

His prediction turned out to be true and he knew it when, upon lifting his eyes from the books he was reading, he saw the morning sun shyly shining through the trees. He was so tired but at least he had found out something.

It was a Demon, the thing that settled deep inside Stiles’ chest and refused to leave, and kept coming back to haunt him. Derek needed more information, he needed to talk with him again.

He knew almost nothing about Demons and all he could do was make him talk as much as possible to find out why he possessed Stiles of all people, and what was it he wanted from… them.

 

All day went without a sign, and the Demon didn’t show up the following day either.

Not knowing what to do and eager to find out more, Derek resumed his activities of lurking, even if Stiles had him promise he would have stopped climbing into his room through the window, or stalking around his block, hidden in the bushes.

He still remembers the exact words, but it hurts to think back to that day. He’s not even sure if it was Stiles talking or if he was already possessed. How long has this been going on? He’s been strange for quite a while now, short of 3 months for sure. But what if the Demon arrived even earlier? What has that thing been doing to Stiles?

 

He ran to the sheriff’s house just as the man was approaching his car and leaving for work. No audible sign of Stiles inside.

But the Demon moved swiftly so it was no wonder he didn’t make any noise as he moved around.

Derek stood just outside of the house, not able to hear anything at all. When finally the sun set over the trees, he heard the Demon speak in Stiles’ voice.

“You’ve been so good, I guess you deserve some fresh air.”

He was at loss until he finally heard something. It was Stiles heart, beating so fast he feared he would have exploded any moment now. Beating faster than he had ever heard it beat in the last months, erratic.

Then Stiles – the real one – started sobbing silently into a pillow.

 

Derek didn’t know what to do so he just stayed still, clenching his fists hard, furious and helpless as Stiles cried himself to sleep.


End file.
